Growing Up
by V3GG13vamp
Summary: The Cullens have just moved to a new town and prepare to settle down.  However, there's a hint of rebellion on the horizon.
1. Moving In

June 14th 1991, 80 miles south of Houlton, Maine.

Emmett peeked at Edward as he unloaded yet another packing box from the back of the removal truck. The jug of ice cold water was being held out of sight behind Emmett's back, waiting for the precise moment when Edward would turn to face him with his hands full. As Edward turned, Emmett launched the water at him full force. Before it reached Edward's face, though, he had moved the box to shield himself and consequently the water splashed harmlessly onto the floor.

"Cheat!" sniggered Emmett, knowing Edward had seen his plan all along, then gasped as Jasper shoved a handful of ice-cubes straight down the back of his shirt.

Within seconds the unpacking was abandoned and chunks of ice flew round the garage like a hail of missiles. The laughter stopped instantaneously as they heard the unmistakeable crack of glass breaking and the windshield of Carlisle's car crumpled into a thousand tiny shards all over the driver's seat.

Carlisle coughed discretely from the doorway and three shame-faced vampires turned towards him.

"I trust that will be mended before my first shift at the hospital," he said quietly.

The boys nodded and muttered apologies.

As soon as Carlisle left they got back to work amid some elbowing and jostling and murmurs of _'that was your fault'_.

When the clearing up was done they decided to take the damaged vehicle to town for repairs. Emmett fixed it to the back of his jeep using a tow-bar and they all headed off.

The garage said it would take about an hour to replace the windshield so the boys went to wait in a nearby park.

"Wonder what _this_ High School will be like?" said Edward with a sigh. Jasper groaned.

"_Why_ do we always have to go to school?" he moaned. "Carlisle gets to do what _he_ wants every time we move. School is so _dull_."

"I know," agreed Emmett. "And it's not like he even asks us if we want to go. Sometimes he treats us like we really _are_ kids."

Edward chuckled. "He's actually only three years older than you two but you'd think it was way more from how he acts!"

The more the boys pondered the unfairness of things, the more worked up they became. Feelings of discontent seeped out and Jasper bounced them right on back. The effect was like a snowball. By the time the car was fixed the three were ready to do the unthinkable. They were going to challenge the decisions of their coven leader.


	2. Discontent

Their latest house was a traditional Maine style farmhouse which had been standing empty ever since the owners passed away fifteen years ago. The two sons of the elderly couple both lived in New York and had no interest in coming back to take care of the property. It had been on the market for some time but its isolated location made it undesirable to most home hunters. Consequently it had stood cold and unloved until Esme had spotted it last year.

The Cullens had known that a move was imminent as they had been living in the same location for six years now and so Esme had spent the final year making the new house habitable and secure from the elements. It stood in four acres of private land and was bordered on three sides by dense forest. The fourth side lead across open scrubby fields towards the Atlantic. It was a good forty minutes drive to the nearest town (well, fifteen if the cops weren't around) so it was perfect for their next residence.

The house itself was a one storey solid brick construction clad in wood which Esme had painted white. The bedrooms all lead off a central living area and there was converted attic space which housed Carlisle and Esme's suite. Esme had turned one of the smaller rooms into a kitchen, purely for show, although she hoped that she and Carlisle might enjoy some winter afternoons in there, snuggled up next to the big old range. Kitchens always stirred vague human memories in Esme, a sense of family and motherliness, and she always felt drawn to making them as cosy as possible.

There was a huge barn a short distance from the house and only part of it would be needed to house the cars. Esme thought it might be nice if the rest could become some sort of games room for the others as the main house was rather small for the sort of rough-housing that often went on.

As Edward, Emmett and Jasper entered the house that afternoon, Esme was just positioning the huge old dining table which was to be the centre piece of the room. She looked up smiling as they entered but her expression soon turned to a worried frown.

"What's wrong?" she asked cautiously. She had heard about the incident with the car but it wasn't the first time something had been broken so surely that wasn't the cause of their obvious negativity.

Emmett and Jasper both looked at Edward. They knew Esme loved them all dearly but Edward, as her second son, always held a place close to her heart. So he was the one who could persuade Esme most of the time.

"We need a family meeting," said Edward. "There are some things which need to be discussed."

"Of course," said Esme. Without raising her voice at all she called to Rosalie and Alice knowing they could easily hear her from where they were. The two girls flitted softly into the large room to see what was happening.

Carlisle appeared from the garden and was surprised to see everyone standing there looking so solemn.

"We want to sort a few things out," said Edward, taking a seat at the table, and looking pointedly at Jasper and Emmett who promptly sat either side of him.

Carlisle quirked an eyebrow at this and resisted the urge to smile. Clearly whatever they wanted to discuss was weighing heavily on them if they felt the need to support each other in this manner.

"We are all equals here," said Carlisle smoothly. "I value that we are more family than coven and as such everyone will always be listened to." He sat down opposite the boys and the other three also took their places.

"That's just it though, Carlisle," began Edward. "We _don't_ feel like equals at all. You get to go off and do the work that brings you such tremendous satisfaction all the time, Esme gets to pursue her passion for renovation, and then there's us. _We_ get to go to school!"

"I don't understand," said Carlisle. "It's always been that way for us, those are the roles we play so that we can fit into human society without fear of discovery."

"_Exactly_!" jumped in Emmett. "It's _always_ the same!"

Jasper sighed. "Carlisle," he said cautiously. "We don't want to go to school."


	3. The Challenge

The silence which followed this statement was quite profound. To say that you could hear a pin drop would be inadequate, since every one of them could routinely hear such a thing anyway. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say you could hear the blinking of the tiny wood mouse which peeped at them from a crack in the skirting boards.

The boys waited, wondering what Carlisle was thinking. Edward was prepared to argue all night if necessary, he'd done it many times before when Carlisle had tried to dissuade him from this or that idea. Emmett wondered if they were doing the right thing. Now that he thought about it, school wasn't such a chore and it meant he got to spend all day with Rosalie. Jasper was doing his level best not to let his terror show, as the full enormity of confronting the leader of a coven suddenly hit him. Maria would have shredded all three of them before they'd even finished speaking for having the audacity to suggest her ways might not be the only ones.

Carlisle sat thoughtfully for a while. His face was calm and showed no sign of irritation at what had been presented to him.

"You understand that you can't just stay home all day, or be out roaming the forests at all hours?" he began. "That's not how other humans live and we need to explain ourselves when people want to know about us. What do you propose if you are not to attend school?"

All three of them replied in unison, "Jobs!"

Rosalie was on her feet in an instant. "Jobs?" she cried. "You want _me_ to get a _job_?"

The look of horror on her face was so intense that Emmett couldn't stop a snort of laughter escaping. Rosalie rounded on him in an instant.

"_You_!" she said as she stalked round the table to where he was seated. Emmett was too shocked to get up and soon she towered over him. She pointed her carefully manicured finger at him.

"Just remember this," she continued, as her eyes narrowed. "When I get home from a hard day at work, I'm going to be too tired to do anything. _Anything_! Got that?"

The penny dropped as Emmett saw years of nightmarish celibacy in front of him. He leapt to his feet.

"No, Babe, wait…" he stuttered. "You don't have to get a job. We…we just meant us, not you. You can still go to school…"

He tailed off as Rosalie's eyes became two piercing jet black holes, the sight of which froze his very soul.

"Go to school?" she said incredulously, "With Alice, and no one else? While _you_ get to do what you want all day..?" Her rage was building to dangerous levels and Jasper tried hard to send waves of calm her way. Truth be told the sight of an enraged Rosalie frightened even him, so he had a hard time focussing.

"I don't want to go to school either," piped up Alice in a small voice. "I think getting a job will be amazing!" As much as Alice loved going to school and living as a human it was only one small aspect of the life she had missed. To have the chance to explore the adult human world as well was too wonderful to miss.

"Well that's it then," announced Rosalie, sitting back down. "If Esme can stay home all day and play house then so will I." She folded her arms daring anyone to challenge her.

Carlisle glanced at his mate with interest wondering how she took Rosalie's last comment. From the look on her face, not at all well would be the answer.

Esme slowly pushed back her chair and turned to face Rosalie. Esme was such a tender loving creature and she hardly ever got cross with anyone. Carlisle knew that she had her limits though, and it looked like Rosalie had just crossed the line. Esme put both palms down on the table as she stood next to Rosalie and waited till the girl looked at her.

"Let's get one thing straight, young lady," said Esme. "I do _not_ sit home all day 'playing house'. _Who_ do you think does all the laundry? _Who_ keeps the house clean? _Who_ has to mend the broken windows and re-hang the doors on their hinges? _Who_ has to attend all the local charity fund-raisers? _Who_ has to sit through embarrassing parent teacher conferences when you and Emmett are discovered in the janitor's closet?"

Rosalie was beginning to get the message and looked suitably chastened.

"I'm sorry, Esme," she whispered. "Truly I didn't mean to belittle what you do for us."

Esme's anger vanished in an instant and she kissed the top of her daughter's head.

"I know you didn't," she smiled. "But really, Rosalie, you need to think a little before you decide to speak."

Rosalie looked up and smiled back, relieved that Esme had forgiven her.

Carlisle pressed his finger tips together and pondered. It was unfair of him to force them to live such a repetitive life if they were genuinely unhappy with it. If someone told him he could never practise medicine again he would be quite devastated. Perhaps it _was_ time to make changes. He looked up at the six expectant faces watching him.

"Our number one priority is to live in obscurity," he said. "No one must ever begin to suspect what we truly are. Now, part of the reason I have my hospital work is so that we have an explicable source of income on which we supposedly live. When I first chose that path though, I studied honestly and gained my qualifications just like everyone else, no short cuts. It's early June now, so if you are serious about getting jobs and not attending school you have until September to prove to me that you can make it work. You will obtain employment through legitimate means and will work hard at blending in with your co-workers. If by September you find that it is too much then we can revert to our usual story and you can begin college courses. Do you think that's a fair decision?"

The smiles on his children's faces told him that they were agreeable to his plan and the meeting broke up. The younger members of the family all went off to their rooms to discuss their ideas for jobs, leaving Esme and Carlisle alone.

Esme went to stand behind her husband and slowly massaged his shoulders. He sighed in contentment as her hands trailed further down his chest. He turned his face towards her and breathed in her delicious scent.

"Do you think they will cope?" she asked, as her fingers playfully teased open his shirt buttons.

"I'm sure they will surprise us," he murmured as he pulled his wife down onto his lap. Esme giggled girlishly.

"Why Dr Cullen!" she said in mock horror. "Are you sure this is normal behaviour for a doctor?"

Carlisle grinned as he picked her up in his arms. "Oh yes," he said, as he swiftly glided up the stairs with her. "And I intend to give you a most thorough examination Miss Platt."

They both chuckled as they heard Edward turn up the music in the hopes of blocking out things he definitely did _not_ want to hear.


	4. Interviews

Carlisle had been adamant that they gain employment through legitimate means, so four appointments were made at the local careers office. Rosalie was still determined to stay home and was going to take care of the house whilst Esme devoted her attention to renovating the barn.

At 9am Monday morning, Edward was called in from the waiting room for his career's advice interview.

Mr Davis had worked at the careers office for nigh on thirty years now. Times had changed a lot since he started. Back then there were plenty of jobs as farm labourers or deck hands with the many fishing fleets, but now things were very different. It seemed like you needed a college degree to flip burgers nowadays and opportunities for high school graduates were rather limited. He was never one to give up on a client though and he was determined to do his best for the young man waiting outside.

"Sit down, sit down," he said enthusiastically. "Well, young man, Mr Cullen isn't it?" He held out his hand which Edward shook politely.

"I see from the forms you filled out that you graduated this summer from a High School in Montana and that your family have just moved here."

Edward nodded. Mr Davis looked at him. The boy would have to be a little more forthcoming if they were to make any progress.

"Tell me, Edward, what line of work were you interested in?" he enquired.

Edward shrugged. "I don't know really," he said. "I was wondering about a position in the neurology unit at the hospital, dealing with head traumas and that sort of thing."

Mr Davis was about to laugh when he realised the boy was serious. Did he really think a high school graduate could perform neurosurgery?

"Well, that's a laudable ambition," he said gently. "But I'm afraid your qualifications rather prohibit you from such work."

Edward looked surprised. "Oh, well what work _am_ I qualified for?" he asked.

Mr Davis suspected that this teen might be a little more difficult to please than most and decided to probe further.

"Tell me, Edward," he said. "What sorts of things are you interested in, outside of school?"

Edward thought for a moment. He couldn't very well say that he liked sprinting at 60mph or sucking the life from a juicy mountain lion, so he chose something more human.

"I like music," he said. "I often play the piano and other instruments at home."

Mr Davis beamed. "Son, I have just the job for you!"

He dug through a filing cabinet and found the job advert he was looking for. He passed it across the Edward.

"I'll phone ahead and let them know you're coming. I imagine they will start you on a trial period at first, and then if that goes well you will be taken on permanently."

Edward looked down at the paper in his hands and frowned. Carlisle would be most amused if he found out.

* * *

Jasper's appointment was at 10am. Alice had already changed his suit seven times but eventually decided on a smart grey one with a white shirt and simple black tie. He had just seen Edward disappearing purposefully down the street and wondered if he had found a job already.

Jasper had only ever had one career so to speak – soldier. He was pretty certain that enlisting in the marines would _not_ be Carlisle's idea of maintaining anonymity! The door opened and he was summoned in.

Jasper sat bolt upright in the chair as the man scanned his records. Mr Davis looked up.

"So, Jasper Hale. It says here that you graduated a year ago but have taken some time out to travel. Is that correct?"

Jasper sat up even straighter. "Yes, sir!" he answered.

"Relax, son," said Mr Davis. "You're not in school anymore!"

Jasper forced himself to take a more relaxed posture.

"So, during your year out, did you think about which direction you want your life to take?" he asked.

Jasper hadn't anticipated this sort of question and wished fervently that he had asked Alice to focus on his interview a little more.

"I would like a job, sir," he answered, eventually.

Mr Davis sighed. The boy had graduated High School with outstanding results yet had no clue about where he wanted his life to go! Despite this Mr Davis couldn't help liking the young man immensely.

"Well now," he continued. "Let's see if we can't be a little more specific. What are you most interested in?"

Jasper appeared to be thinking deeply.

_Good_. Thought Mr Davis. _We might be getting somewhere here._ He glanced at his watch and was surprised to note it was only 10.15am. He was suddenly feeling so ravenous he could have sworn it was much later.

His feelings of hunger were nothing to do with an empty stomach. When he'd asked Jasper what he was most interested in, one word had sprung to mind. Blood.

Poor Jasper tried desperately to get his mind away from his insatiable thirst.

_Sour lemons, nasty yellow bitter fruits… which sting like crazy when a human gets a drop into a nice juicy open cut…. NO! Alice…sweet, gentle, kind Alice who loved him dearly…despite the times when he'd slipped and sunk his razor sharp teeth into the hot pulsing carotid…NO! NO! NO! Esme…Esme and Carlisle that time he'd accidentally come upon them hidden behind a boulder on the lake shore…_

"History!" he blurted out. "I like history."

Mr Davis leaned forward with interest.

"Really?" he said. "Any particular period of history?"

"The American Civil War," answered Jasper, relieved that he had finally regained control of his feelings.

"Well that's excellent," beamed Mr Davis, as he reached into the filing cabinet. "I'm sure you're going to be VERY excited at this!"

He handed the details to Jasper who read them through quite enthralled.

* * *

Next to arrive was Alice. Carlisle had made them all promise to get jobs in a fair and honest manner so she had dutifully resisted any visions of the morning. Consequently she had no idea what Mr Davis might have in mind. She bounced into his office and shook his hand before he'd even had a chance to get up.

"I'm Alice," she announced, "and I want to work in fashion!"

_Wow! _Thought Mr Davis. _Finally someone who has actually come prepared._

He smiled at the exuberant girl before him.

"Well, Alice," he said, "Let's see if we can help achieve your goals."

His first mistake was in asking Alice to explain what she already knew about the fashion industry. Three hours later he held up his hand to stop her.

"Yes, my dear," he said, stifling a yawn. "It seems you are very well-informed for someone of your age. I'm afraid though that our town of Machias doesn't quite match up to the fashion scenes of Milan and Paris."

He glanced at her, hoping she wouldn't be too disappointed.

"I think _this_ is the nearest you are going to come to your career choice round here," he said, as he slid the job notice across to her.

Alice picked up the paper and beamed.

"Perfect!" she said confidently. "And you'll see. Milan will have _nothing_ on Machias when I'm through!" And with that she danced off out the door leaving a thoroughly exhausted Mr Davis in her wake.

_Good grief_! He thought. _That one could talk the hind leg off a donkey_! He looked down at his schedule and noticed that the only other appointment was due to have been at 11.30am. He would have to phone the client and apologise for the missed appointment and see if he could re-schedule. Just as he was picking up his briefcase there came a knock at the door and a cheeky, dimpled face peeked round.

"Is it my turn now?" asked Emmett.

Mr Davis stared in amazement.

"Son, you surely haven't been sitting there since 11.30 have you?" he gasped.

Emmett nodded cheerfully. Mr Davis was lost for words.

"I'm so sorry," he stuttered, "I was sure you would have left. My last client took a little longer than I anticipated."

Emmett chuckled.

"Hell, if my sister only gave a three hour lecture on fashion, I'd say you got off lightly!" he exclaimed.

Mr Davis sighed and nodded.

"Yes, she was rather… enthusiastic," he said. "Anyway, it's extremely good of you to have waited so long, so let's not waste another moment."

He gestured for Emmett to have a seat and pulled out some forms.

"Now then," he began. "Would it be rather obvious of me to assume you're into sports?"

Emmett grinned proudly.

"I _love_ sports," he said. "But Dad wouldn't ever let me take part at school."

Mr Davis was rather shocked by this revelation. The boy was obviously incredibly athletic. In fact it was a wonder he wasn't on a sports scholarship at a top college.

"Your father kept you out of sports at school?" he asked. "Whatever for?"

"So the other kids didn't get broken," said Emmett. "I didn't mind too much, though. There's always Jasper and Edward to fight with."

"Ah, yes," nodded Mr Davis, _Did he just say 'broken'? _"Your siblings. Well, if your father doesn't want you to pursue sports, is there anything else you'd like to spend your time doing?"

Emmett opened his mouth to say '_Rosalie_' then remembered he was there to find a job.

"I love animals," he said.

"Really?" asked Mr Davis, "And what is it you love about animals?"

_The tracking, the frenzied chase, the fierce adrenalin fuelled pounding of their hearts, the angry thrashing of claws and teeth as they defend themselves to the last…_

"I just love everything about them," he answered.

Mr Davis hesitated for a moment but then decided he'd spent quite enough time with this family for one day. He reached into the filing cabinet.

"Here," he said. "I think you might enjoy this line of work. Just don't 'break' anything."

Emmett snatched up the paper and sped off yelling '_thank you'_ over his shoulder as he went.

Mr Davis sighed. _What a day!_


	5. Rosalie's Story Part 1

There was an air of secrecy in the Cullen household. All Carlisle and Esme knew was that everyone had secured employment by fair means and that they were all due to begin the following week. Beyond that no one was saying anything. Carlisle was desperate to find out what each one of them was up to but Esme had reassuringly told him that they were all good people who merited his trust. Carlisle hugged her and offered up silent prayers to God to keep his children and the local community safe during the coming weeks.

Monday arrived and the Cullens went their separate ways.

_Rosalie's Story_

Rosalie was rather excited that she had been allowed to stay home while the others had to find jobs. She couldn't imagine anything more dreadful than having to work at some dreary place all day with never a word of thanks. School was dull enough but at least it was only a few hours a day and she got to sit next to Emmett most of the time. Now she had the whole day to herself – this was going to be a breeze!

Esme had run through a list of everyday tasks for her; cleaning the house, doing laundry, dealing with any stray human visitors and so on. Rosalie had declined Esme's offer of help for the first few days, certain that she'd have it all sorted within half an hour, and _then_ she could spend the whole day pampering herself until it was time for Emmett to come home. Ah, bliss!

As soon as everyone had left for work and Esme was merrily rearranging walls in the barn, Rosalie began her chores. First was to clean the house. She looked around and her enhanced vampire vision showed a clear film of dust on all the surfaces. In the kitchen cupboard she discovered some cloths and a bottle of spray bleach she had seen Esme use on the kitchen surfaces. Armed with these she flitted from room to room merrily spraying and wiping as she went. Every surface was tackled in record time – the leather sofas, the antique wooden tables, even the wooden floors. She breathed in when it was finished and smelled the satisfying scent of cleanliness. Well that had taken all of ten minutes, what next?

Her list said laundry was next. Although the Cullens only wore their clothes a few times they still needed to be washed, dried and ironed ready for sending to the Good Will shops. Everyone was supposed to drop their dirty clothing in laundry baskets in their rooms but she was disgusted to discover that most of them didn't bother (herself included she realised shamefully). Using her finger tips she gathered dirty underpants, socks, shirts and numerous other items from the floors and bundled them all into a large basket. She carried this into the utility area and realised straight away they weren't all going to fit into one load. She decided to wash each person's clothing separately so as to make it easier to sort later. First up were Carlisle's many shirts and trousers he wore to work as well as a couple of more casual items he wore around the house. Rosalie stuffed them all into the machine and added some detergent before wondering what setting to use. She read the bewildering array of options on the dial and was half tempted to go and ask Esme which one to use. _No_, she decided, _I've got to show I can do this myself_. In the end she decided to select 'C' for Carlisle hoping it would prove lucky. The label next to C said _95ºC – White Cottons_. Rosalie closed the door and hit _start_.

There was nothing else to do now except wait for the first wash to be done so Rosalie decided to head to her room and try out the new nail decorations she had bought last week. First she needed to add a base coat of coloured varnish, then using tweezers she would gently lift the delicate flower patterns onto her nails. Finally she would add a layer of clear polish over the top. Time slipped away as Rosalie hummed to herself creating masterpieces at the end of each finger. As the last one dried she realised it was nearly 2.30pm. The wash would have completed its cycle hours ago! _Oh well_, she thought. _I've still plenty of time left. They won't be home for at least three hours_.

Rosalie pulled the damp clothes out of the washer and threw them straight into the drier before refilling the machine with Alice's things. She was about to start the wash when something from the living room caught her eye. The antique table in the centre of the room looked rather a strange colour. Rosalie went over to examine it and her eyes widened in horror. The entire surface appeared to have bubbled up. Gingerly she touched it with her fingertip and a huge chunk of the polished surface came away. Rosalie backed away in dismay – what had happened? Why was it disintegrating like that? As she neared the sofa she was shocked to find that it too was now wrinkled and streaked.

_Oh no_, she thought. _The spray_ _I used. It must have reacted with the furniture_. Rosalie began to panic. There was nothing she could do now, she'd just have to order new furniture later. She dreaded Esme seeing what a mess she'd made of the lovely antique dining table. She decided to at least do a thorough job with the laundry so everyone would have nice clean clothes for tomorrow. The drier had finished its cycle so she unloaded Carlisle's things onto the table and prepared to iron. As she laid out the first pair of trousers she realised that something didn't look quite right. Cautiously she held the trousers up to her waist and gulped when she realised they ended just below her knees. Frantically she checked all the other trousers and then the shirts. Every single item had shrunk – severely! Rosalie sank onto the kitchen floor and began to sob.

(Please leave a little review - just so I know if anyone's actually reading this lol!)


	6. Rosalie's Story Part 2

From the barn Esme heard the heart-wrenching cries of her daughter and flew back to the house to see what was wrong. She found Rosalie huddled on the floor with tears of venom pouring down her cheeks. As soon as Rosalie saw Esme she flung herself into her arms.

"Oh Mom," she wailed. "I've ruined everything! I thought it was all so easy and now everything's gone wrong. Carlisle has nothing to wear, no one else's clothes are even washed, the house is a mess…"

Esme shushed her daughter and rocked her soothingly. "Calm yourself," she said gently. "Come and sit on the sofa and tell me what's happened."

"We _can't_!" bawled Rosalie, crying even harder now. "I've ruined the sofa."

Esme handed her daughter a hankie to dry her eyes and went to see what Rose meant by 'ruined'. As soon as she entered the room and smelt the strong scent of bleach she knew what had happened.

"Rose, did you use bleach to clean _everything_?" she asked.

Rosalie nodded.

"Oh, Rose, sweetheart. You're only supposed to use bleach on the hard kitchen surfaces and the tiled floors," she said. "There are all sorts of specialist cleaning products for the other things."

Rose stared at her glumly. "I had no idea," she whispered miserably.

Esme sighed. "Well the sofas will definitely need replacing but the other items can be repaired," she said. "It's just a matter of stripping down the damaged surfaces and re-polishing with waxes and varnishes."

She looked at Rosalie. "I'm afraid you've just added to your workload quite considerably," she added sternly.

Rosalie nodded her head meekly. "I'll get it all fixed," she promised, and then hesitatingly asked, "Will you help tell me what to do?"

Esme smiled. "Of course I will, silly girl," she said. "You don't imagine that running a home is something you master overnight do you?"

Rosalie gave a half smile and then remembered the laundry.

"Carlisle's going to be furious with me," she whispered.

Esme raised her eyebrows questioningly and Rose held up one of the pairs of trousers by way of explanation.

Esme stared and then clasped her hand to her mouth as she roared with laughter. "Rose that's got to be the funniest thing I've seen for ages! I'm sure Carlisle will see the funny side too. And don't worry – he's got enough work outfits upstairs to kit out the entire hospital staff for a week!"

Rosalie felt very silly that she'd made such an outstanding mess of things but was relieved that she didn't appear to be in serious trouble.

"Let's start over tomorrow," said Esme. "And this time I will help advise you until you feel you have got the hang of everything, okay?"

Rosalie smiled and hugged Esme hard. She was so glad to have such an understanding mother.

That night Rosalie had to bite her tongue and endure the relentless teasing from everyone until Carlisle stepped in and ordered them to stop whereupon Emmett took her away to the forest to hunt. They were all secretly rather gleeful that for once Rosalie was the one making mistakes and were determined to make the most of it.

Over the next few days Rosalie didn't spare herself a single thought as she focused one hundred percent on righting all of her mistakes. New sofas were delivered and Rosalie painstakingly sanded down all the ruined furniture before gently restoring their surfaces with waxes and polishes under the watchful eye of Esme. She learned which wash cycles to use and how to separate the different fabrics. She mended the window without a murmur after Edward smashed a baseball through it and even found time to add beautiful fresh flowers to everyone's rooms each day.

Esme was very proud of how her daughter was shaping up though she was worried that Rosalie seemed a little down each day. Was she still feeling bad about her first mistakes? Esme decided to have a word with her. She found Rosalie in the garden vigorously shaking the dust from several thick luxurious rugs.

"Is everything alright, Rosalie?" she asked. "You're doing a fantastic job running the home now."

Rosalie smiled gratefully. "Thanks mom," she said. "It's a lot better now that I actually know what I'm doing!"

"Then what has you down?" continued Esme.

Rosalie sighed. "This is going to sound _really_ selfish and 'typical Rose' but…" she hesitated.

"Go on, my dear," encouraged Esme.

"Well, it's just that no one even cares about anything I do. It's like I'm just a shadow in the background. I try my hardest to make their rooms nice and make sure everything's done for them but no one even bothers to say thank you. How could you stand to keep doing everything for us all these years?"

Esme smiled. "Yes, it can seem like a bit of a thankless task at times," she agreed. "But people do have their ways of letting you know you're appreciated. Edward, for instance, will start to play my favourite songs when I'm working in the kitchen. Emmett, well you know how up front he is! I've lost count of the times he's suddenly swung me round and said 'love you mom' for no apparent reason. Jasper's much shyer but I'll often find a simple bouquet of wild flowers on my desk or he'll simply whisper 'thank you' as he passes by. And you and Alice let me know I'm loved by the times we spend together, doing each other's hair or having one of our wild girlie shopping sprees. Sometimes, Rosalie, we just have to do things for our families because we know they need doing and not for any reward or recognition. But I guarantee everyone _does_ notice what you do, and they _do_ appreciate it even if they aren't very forthcoming with saying so."

Rosalie sighed. "You're right, mom," she said. "Come to think of it, Edward actually mumbled 'cool' when he discovered I'd had his piano re-tuned for him!"

Esme laughed. "You see!" she said. "'Cool' from Edward is high praise indeed!"

Having settled into her daily routines, Rosalie found she could now devote more of her time to noticing her family and was determined to do other small things to make their lives more pleasant. When Edward was looking rather down she encouraged him to talk through what was bothering him and just listened patiently without criticising. When he asked her advice she told him not to give up and just be there for the person when they were ready to talk. Jasper sought her out in the garage one day and cautiously asked if she had any scrap metal lying around as he wanted to make something. She helped him find a suitable chunk of thick iron to which she added a shiny silver coating before helping him form it into the round engraved object he was making. She and Alice shared a special sisterly bond, so when she came and asked for something rather special, Rosalie didn't hesitate for one second before retrieving the item from the box on the shelf. Emmett was her absolute life of course. Without Emmett her existence would have no meaning. When he came to her, she shared his sorrow and tenderly carved a beautiful piece of polished oak for him to use.

* * *

Carlisle had indeed laughed over the shrunken laundry but as the weeks went by he glowed with pride at seeing the changes in Rosalie. True, her outward beauty was quite phenomenal, but it was the gentle motherly spirit he saw emerging from underneath that impressed him more. He felt very privileged to witness the blossoming of this wonderful woman he could call daughter.

(Please review even if it's just to say 'read it'! Thank you)


	7. Edward's Story Part 1

_Edward's Story_

Edward wondered for the millionth time if he had done the right thing in accepting the position of church pianist. He'd only ever been inside a church a few times in his whole existence, usually under duress. Although he found the buildings themselves to be peaceful, calming places, they always served to remind him of what an abomination he was; a soulless monstrosity who shouldn't even exist. Certainly nothing that God would be interested in keeping company with.

He sighed as he walked up the shingle pathway to the church door.

Machias was rather an isolated town and only merited a formal visit from a pastor once a month. The little congregation, however, was determined to keep the spirit of faith alive and so held regular meetings themselves and took turns at preaching. Unfortunately, Maisie Johnson, who had played the piano for the past forty-five years, had passed away last April and a potential replacement had only just been found. One Edward Cullen, high school graduate and accomplished musician (according to Mr Davis of the careers office). Mr Kenton, the church elder, agreed to give the boy a one month trial to see if he was suitable. Frankly he seemed a little young for such a responsibility but they had been without music for so long that there was a danger that some of the weaker members of the congregation might lose motivation, and so this Edward would have to do. For now.

The church was a simple traditional building set in grounds lovingly tended by the community. It was a wooden whitewashed construction with a small bell-tower at one end. Large double doors opened into the main body of the church and above them was a beautiful stained glass window depicting the baptism of Jesus in the river Jordan. When the sun shone it cast glorious shades of blues and greens across the benches. At the front was a simple altar with a baptismal font and pulpit, and off to the left side was the piano.

Edward pushed open the doors cautiously and slipped inside. He was supposed to meet a Mr Kenton here at 4.30. The place smelled of incense and candle wax and Edward could make out the thousands of microscopic dancing dust motes that span and twisted from the simple act of opening and closing the doors. A figure was seated at the front of the church so Edward made his way forward. It was a rather stern faced gentleman wearing a heavy black coat, unusual for the time of year even in a northern state like Maine. He was sitting with his eyes closed and Edward wondered if he was just resting or was praying. He coughed politely. The man breathed in deeply and opened his eyes.

"Mr Cullen I presume?" said Mr Kenton, as his piercing blue eyes raked up and down Edward.

"Yes, sir," replied Edward. "I'm the new pianist."

"Hmmm, we shall see."

He ignored Edward's outstretched hand and led the way to the piano.

"Are you a religious man?" he asked.

Edward hesitated. "Well… I believe in God, if that's what you are asking," he said at last.

Mr Kenton pursed his lips. "It's a start I suppose," he murmured. "Anti-discrimination laws state that _anyone_ should be given a fair chance of employment but let me make one thing clear, young man. This is a house of God and as such I expect you to show reverence at all times. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly," replied Edward, smoothly, already wishing he was back at home. It never ceased to amaze him how some so called religious people could be the absolute antithesis of a loving accepting God. Or maybe it was just that he compared everyone to Carlisle and that was setting the bar very high indeed.

"Naturally you will need to prove your capabilities before we consider your appointment," continued Mr Kenton, and he handed Edward some sheet music. It was Sorabji's _Opus Clavicembalisticum_, a notoriously difficult composition. Mr Kenton was hoping Edward would flounder miserably and thereby give him an excuse to refuse him the position. Edward sat down and ran his fingers lightly over the keys. One glance and he had already memorised the entire piece. Mr Kenton was in for a treat!

Edward's hands flew up and down the keys and the notes filled the church. His feet worked furiously on the pedals and the building came alive with the cascading sounds which swirled into every nook and cranny. When he was finished, Edward turned to Mr Kenton.

"Sorry if that was a little rusty," he said. "I'm much better when I've practised a piece first."

Mr Kenton's mouth opened and closed like a fish stranded on the shore.

"Yes…well I…that is…" he stuttered. "It will do for now! Here are the hymns for the service this evening. Learn them!"

And with that he turned on his heel and stalked out of the building. Edward smirked. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all.

The hymns were all rather simple ones but he passed the time by playing them softly to himself anyway. The service wasn't due to begin until 6pm so he was surprised when the door opened just before 5pm. He continued playing as he watched a woman enter the building. She was a rather thin creature with light brown hair dragged back into a rough pony tail. She wore a plain woollen skirt and a light Mac. She didn't seem to notice him as she took a seat in one of the benches near the back, keeping her eyes down to the ground. Edward could clearly read her thoughts but they gave him no insight into who she was or why she was here so early.

_Lord God, let her sins be upon me instead, so she may enjoy your light. Lord God, let her sins be upon me instead, so she may enjoy your light. Lord God…_

It was the same litany chanted over and over and over, without pause or change. For nearly an hour the poor creature huddled there repeatedly pleading with God for this unknown sinner. At about 5.45 she got up, still reciting the words in her head, and slipped out of a side door. A few moments later the congregation began to arrive.

Fortunately Mr Kenton wasn't among them and a much more pleasant old man led the service. Edward was introduced to everyone and at the end there was a round of applause for his playing and requests that he be there for all of their times of worship if possible. Edward felt quite warm and fuzzy inside as he listened to the thoughts of genuine welcome and gratitude as the people headed home and wondered if that was what enticed Carlisle to work such long hard hours at the hospital. Immediately he felt ashamed of himself for such thoughts as he knew Carlisle would continue to work tirelessly to save lives even if every single one of his patients openly declared hatred for him. Still, it was very nice to feel appreciated for once, he mused as he sped off home.

The following weeks produced a similar pattern. Each Monday Mr Kenton would leave various pieces of music for the coming week and Edward would play for the different services and events. He found the job quite pleasant and even went so far as to bring some of his own compositions along to play, although of course he never mentioned them when Mr Kenton was around. There was just one little blip in an otherwise enjoyable routine. Every day without fail the lonely woman would slip silently into church and recite her petition to God. And always she would creep away before anyone else arrived. Edward began trying to play soothing pieces when she was there, gentle lulling tunes which he hoped would help bring some peace to a clearly troubled mind. He noticed her breathing and heart rate did seem to slow a little even if her mind still raced ahead with its pleas.

One day she arrived and discovered three pieces of paper on her usual seat; one said 'A', one said 'B' and the third said 'I really can't decide, will you choose for me?'

She looked around in surprise and for a brief second her mind was still. It was then that she noticed Edward looking at her shyly. She had known that the new pianist was there for she had heard him playing every time she arrived, but hadn't thought to even look at him; she was so caught up in her own troubles. She looked back at the pieces of paper wondering what on earth they meant.

Edward quirked a smile at her and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

The woman frowned and cautiously held up 'B'.

Edward nodded his thanks to her and began to play a piece by Ludavico Einaudi. The music seemed to fill her soul entirely and as the notes softly floated up through the air she felt lifted with them. Suddenly reality crashed back and clutching her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob she fled from the building. Edward only caught one phrase. _Oh Sarah!_


	8. Edward's Story Part 2

The woman failed to appear for the next three days and Edward felt devastated that it might be his intrusion into her privacy which was keeping her away. He hoped and hoped that she would return and every day left the same small note on her seat just in case. It was on the fourth day that he felt huge relief as the door opened a fraction and the woman entered. He studiously avoided looking at her as he pretended to study the piano book but his enhanced hearing could tell exactly where her footsteps were leading her. As his fingers ran up and down the scales he heard the rustle as his note was picked up and a soft sigh as it was read:

**_I'm so sorry for my silly intrusion into your privacy _**

**_the other _****_day. Please forgive me as it was truly _**

**_not my intention to _****_distract you from your time of prayer._**

**_Edward_**

Her soft steps approached the piano and Edward deliberately stayed out of her mind. He had already intruded enough.

"You're the first one to speak to me actually," she said softly. "Well, write to me anyway!" She smiled.

Edward looked up and was struck by the overwhelming sense of weariness in such a young face. The woman could only have been in her mid-thirties yet she looked as though she'd seen three lifetimes of tragedy. He was suddenly at a loss for what to say to this fragile creature. Fortunately she seemed to sense his youthful discomfort and spoke again.

"What was that piece you played last time?" she asked.

"It's by Einaudi," replied Edward. "He's an Italian composer, sort of minimalist I suppose. His music always seems rather pure and uncluttered to me. I was glad when you chose it."

The woman smiled again. "What was option 'A'?" she asked.

Edward frowned and shook his head. "Oh a dreadful dark piece," he said mischievously. "I think it was called _Mr Kenton's Misery_."

The woman almost laughed but then stifled it as if she had done something wrong in showing merriment. "Well I'm glad I chose B," she said.

Edward held out his hand. "We haven't been formally introduced," he said. "I'm Edward Cullen."

She shook his hand, quite surprised at the manners of the young man. "Emily Roberts," she said.

"Would you mind very much keeping me company while I take a break?" asked Edward. "It would be so nice to have a little conversation before I have to practise again."

Emily smiled. "Maybe a little fresh air too," she said. "You look like you spend far too much time indoors!"

They headed outside to stroll along one of the pathways that wound through the grounds of the church.

"I don't mean to pry," began Edward. "But I couldn't help notice you were rather upset last time. Is there anything I can do to help?" He desperately wanted to ask who Sarah was but knew he couldn't reveal his knowledge.

Emily sighed. "You're very kind, Edward, but there's really nothing you or anyone can do."

To Edward's horror Emily's eyes welled up again. He rushed to pass her his handkerchief which she clutched to her face as she sank to the ground. Her whole body shook with sobs.

"Oh Edward I'm so afraid for her, so afraid! I would change places with her in an instant if I could. Oh God, I'm so afraid!"

Edward gently put his arms around her, thankful that he was wearing quite a thick sweater that day, and slowly rocked her. Gradually her sobs subsided.

"Emily," he said, when her breathing had calmed somewhat. "What has you so afraid? And of whom are you speaking?"

Emily shuddered. "Sarah, my daughter."

"Is she in trouble?" probed Edward. "Maybe I can help?" This poor woman seemed so gentle and defenceless. She reminded him a little of Esme and he was overcome with a desire to shield her from whatever was terrifying her so.

"No," whispered Emily. "No one can help my Sarah now. All I can do is beg for God to be merciful to her. Mr Kenton says if I pray hard enough it might go some way in compensating for the terrible sin Sarah committed."

At the mere mention of Kenton's name Edward's fists clenched. Something was very off about that man, and the thought that he'd driven this poor woman into plea-bargaining with God was quite offensive.

"If you don't mind my asking," he said. "What did Sarah do that was so terrible?" Knowing Kenton she probably had a couple of beers and revealed her breasts to him after church!

"She killed herself," came the reply.

Edward was momentarily stunned. Of all the things she could have said he did _not_ foresee that one. Tenderly he led Emily to one of the benches under a tree so she could unburden herself.

Sarah had been such a pure gentle soul. Her father had died in a tragic car accident when she was just five years old leaving Emily to raise her alone. The two were towers of strength for each other and as Sarah grew she blossomed into a most delightful girl. Her absolute passion in life was animals. She read thousands of books about every species, had shelves full of fluffy toy puppies, kittens, bears and dolphins and was forever helping to organise fund raising events for animal protection. Her dream in life was to become a veterinarian so she could devote her time to helping sick creatures.

Sarah knew that this was a very hard road she was undertaking and would require rigorous self-discipline if she was to reach the high standards needed to achieve her goals. All through high school she had studied and studied and had graduated with high honours. She applied to seven different colleges altogether, all of whom offered excellent quality veterinarian training. Each response she received though served to drive her deeper and deeper into despair. It seemed that grades were not enough and these colleges were looking for good all-rounders who had taken an active part in high school life. Sarah had slaved so hard to maintain her grades that she hadn't had time for anything else. When the seventh rejection arrived it was all too much. Sarah could see no way forward and after writing a brief note to her mother saying she was so, so sorry for abandoning her this way, she ended it all.

A cool breeze fluttered through the garden as Emily concluded her tale.

"The church clearly teaches that suicide is a sin and salvation is impossible," she said quietly. "But my Sarah was such a good, kind person. How can one moment's ill-judgement condemn her forever? Why would God allow that?"

Edward pulled her closer. "I don't believe for one second that your daughter is damned," he said emphatically. "Do you know the story of Jonah and the whale?"

Emily nodded.

"Well I think that story shows just how God is willing to forgive even someone who continually makes mistakes over and over again. And I also think that being swallowed by a whale is a metaphor for dying. So that shows that even after death it's not too late for God to forgive anything you might have done."

Emily stared at Edward in amazement. "No one's ever said anything like that to me? Everyone was just so ashamed of what Sarah did, it's like they all just wrote her off. And that made me think God felt the same way. But you're right! I know Sarah made a terrible decision and it was very wrong of her, but I also know that given a chance she would agree her choice was wrong and she would be sorry for it. Oh, Edward! My Sarah _can_ be forgiven."

It was as if someone had lifted a massive weight from Emily's shoulders. All this time she had felt so powerless and defeated and now this young man had shone a beacon of light and shown her the truth.

"I'm so glad you came to our church, Edward," she said. "You can't imagine what you've done for me."

Edward smiled, relieved that the woman was at peace once more.

* * *

It was several weeks later, when Carlisle was asking the lab technician at the hospital for the results of a biopsy, that she noticed his name tag.

"Cullen?" she said. "Are you by any chance related to an Edward Cullen?"

Carlisle smiled. "Yes he's my son. Why do you ask?"

Emily proceeded to explain how Edward had turned her life around and how proud Carlisle must be to have a son like him.

Carlisle listened with pride and astonishment. Yes, Edward was everything he could hope for in a son. And indeed his soul shone like a dazzling star in the night sky. If only Edward could see himself as others did.


	9. Jasper's Story Part 1

_Jasper's Story_

_Little Round Top - July 2__nd__ 1863, the second day of the Battle of Gettysburg. The __20th Maine Volunteer Infantry Regiment__, commanded by Col. __Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain__, fights the famous engagement there, culminating in a dramatic downhill __bayonet__ charge that is one of the most well-known actions at Gettysburg and in the __American Civil War__. Each week during the summer vacation season it is our duty to re-enact this momentous battle showing visitors and residents alike why we are proud to be Mainers._

Jasper had studied the leaflet over and over. The job Mr Davis had sent him for was to participate in a weekly Civil War re-enactment event staged by the local tourist board. It seemed that they were short on Confederate recruits. Jasper couldn't believe his luck. If Maria hadn't turned him six months previous he might have actually been involved for real. And Jasper was certain that if Major Whitlock had been leading the charge, there would have been no Union victory that day!

Jasper had been told to meet at the enormous field on the edge of town. It had been transformed into a fairly realistic replica of the scene at Little Round Top. On one side was the Confederate encampment and to the far north end the Union troops were gathered. The battle was to take place in the centre of the field where a mound represented the hill of Little Round Top, with spectators a safe distance away in grandstand seats. As Jasper headed to the southern end of the field, he held his head up higher and walked taller, marching proudly to war once again.

General Evander Law was sitting outside his tent halfway through a Sudoku puzzle. Well, naturally it wasn't the real Evander Law who had led the Confederates back in 1863, just Mr Haltham the timid town librarian. Bob Haltham had faithfully participated in the yearly re-enactments for the past twenty-five years. His knowledge of the Civil War was outstanding as it was a passion of his; in fact some of his ancestors had even been there at the original battle. Unfortunately those ancestors had been on the side of the Confederates and the town council never let Bob forget it. Consequently every year he was forced to lead the losing side as they were overwhelmed by the victorious Unionists week after week. For once Bob wished he had the balls to stand up to everyone and demand to be on the winning side. Jasper strode up to him and saluted smartly.

"Jasper Whi… Hale reporting for duty, Sir!" he announced.

"At ease soldier," chuckled Mr Haltham. "And don't call me Sir, I'm Bob."

Jasper frowned. "Well, pleased to meet you, Bob," he said shaking the man's hand firmly.

"So, you're going to be part of my Confederate side for the next couple of months, is that right?" asked Bob.

"Oh yes Sir, I mean Bob," nodded Jasper enthusiastically.

"Well Jasper, you're the first one who seems keen to be on my side for once," he said. "Most people hate to be one of the losers."

Jasper bristled and his eyes darkened imperceptibly. "Bob, the Confederates may have eventually lost the war but that doesn't mean we have to lose the battle," he snapped.

Bob was rather taken aback. "But son, history clearly states that the Confederates were defeated that day at Little Round Top. It's our duty to replay those events as they unfolded."

Jasper pursed his lips. "One of my er, relatives, was a Major during the Civil War. One of the reasons he was so successful was that he _never_ did what other people expected him to. He knew his enemies moves and out-manoeuvred them every time." Jasper held his head high. "I intend to follow in his footsteps this day. The Confederates _will_ take Little Round Top!"

Bob smiled at the young man's enthusiasm. Well he was due to retire next year anyway and planned to move nearer to his grand-daughter in Louisiana. Damn it he wasn't going to go out with a whimper. "Let's kick some Union ass!" he said triumphantly.

The town council had firmly set down the sequence of events for the re-enactment. At 2pm the exhausted Confederates, having already marched more than 20 miles that day would begin their assault on the hill. They would encounter the waiting Union troops at the crest of the hill but would be driven back by volley upon volley of shots (blank explosives in the rifles). They would retreat and regroup, and some of them would attempt to sneak round the left flank of the Unionists. The brave Unionists would see through this obvious strategy and would lure the Confederates forward. Once near the top of the hill the remaining Union soldiers would swoop round from behind with bayonets (rubber of course) and kill or capture all the remaining Confederates. The display would end with a rousing victory speech by the town mayor and a celebratory firework display. In Bob's opinion the fireworks and the huge barbeque feast afterwards were the only upside of the whole event.

Jasper listened as Bob explained this to him. It was likely that the Unionists would outnumber them but by how many?

"Last year we had about twenty participants on our side and they had seventy," said Bob sadly. "This year we're down to fifteen."

Jasper sighed. With only fifteen soldiers victory would be nigh on impossible! They needed more recruits.

"When is the first battle due to be fought?" he asked.

"In two days time," answered Bob. "Today we're just getting the place set up and making sure everyone has a uniform." He laughed. "Not that we're ever short of uniforms," he said. "We have enough for a hundred men easily!"

Jasper beamed. "Sir I need you to have those uniforms ready and our rifles fully loaded. I'm going to recruit more soldiers."

Bob opened his mouth in astonishment. "But no one will volunteer to fight with us," he said. "We only have you fifteen because the tourist board agreed to pay you."

"You let me worry about that, Bob," said Jasper confidently. "I will see you on the battle field General!" And with that he saluted and marched away. He had work to do.


	10. Jasper's Story Part 2

It was 1pm two days later and Bob was pacing up and down outside his General's tent. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of Jasper since their first meeting and so far only ten of the paid Confederates had shown up – one of them with his leg in plaster would you believe! Bob had sent him home again after agreeing that he would still be paid. So now they were down to nine. Where was Jasper?

Bob turned to look as a rusty old school bus rumbled up the lane and pulled off into the field. The driver cut the engine and the doors opened. Out marched Major Whitlock, looking resplendent in his light blue infantry uniform with the single gold star on the collar denoting his status as major. Behind him poured a ragtag jumble of men the likes of which Bob had never seen.

For the past two days Jasper had been recruiting soldiers from the dregs of Houlton's population. Drunks slumped at bars, out of work labourers miserably scanning the wanted ads week after week, lonely homeless people rejected by society. Jasper's charisma had them eating out of his hand and with the promise of victory and a hearty meal afterwards they had followed him like sheep. They arrived excited, sober and ready to do battle.

Bob ran towards Jasper with open arms. "This is amazing!" he cried. "Jasper, with this many soldiers we might win!"

"No, General," corrected Jasper. "With this many soldiers we _will_ win!"

The men were quickly kitted out and Jasper gathered them round to explain their strategy.

At 2pm a booming gun announced the start of battle. General Law began dutifully trudging towards the centre of the field with fifteen of his men. They staggered forward acting exhausted and prepared for the onslaught. Right on cue seventy Unionists charged towards them with rifles at the ready. When the fake shots were fired, each one released a tiny red paint pellet which signalled the death of the Confederate victim. The General sounded the retreat and he and the remaining three survivors dashed back to camp. The spectators applauded and watched eagerly to see what would happen next.

The mayor, who was giving a commentary on the events, explained how the glorious Unionists would now cleverly draw the Confederates into their ultimate defeat. As planned, the Union soldiers fanned out into a straight line and marched towards the handful of Confederates, bayonets drawn.

Suddenly there was a blood-curdling scream from the trees at the back of the field and sixty angry Confederate soldiers, led by Major Whitlock charged towards the terrified Unionists. The Unionists had already used up all their bullets in the first skirmish and had nothing left to defend themselves with except rubber bayonet blades. They never got close enough to use them. Jasper gave the order to fire and the Union went down in a hail of red paint.

The horrified mayor ran onto the field himself to put an end to the chaos and General Law took careful aim. The mayor yelped as three pellets caught him in the back and a fourth got him right on the butt.

The watching crowd, who had no idea what was happening, roared with approval anyway. This was the liveliest performance anyone could ever remember seeing!

Jasper pinned the home-made medal to Bob's jacket and the victorious Confederates hoisted their beloved General onto their shoulders and marched around the field chanting _The South Shall Rise Again _led by the Major waving the battle flag of the Confederacy.

Bob felt alive for the first time in his entire life. He knew the mayor was going to haul him over the coals for allowing this but he didn't care. He beamed as he was carried around the field and felt sure his Confederate ancestors were saluting him as he passed.

* * *

When Bob attended his annual blood pressure and diabetes check at the hospital a few weeks later the consultant remarked at how much better all his test results were than last year. Something had given Bob a new lease of life! As Bob explained about all the fun he was having in the Civil War Re-enactments, which were never the same one week to the next, Carlisle smiled to himself. Truly Jasper was a man of enormous strength of character to inspire others like this. He felt sad that Jasper only ever saw himself as weak and uncontrolled and hoped that one day he would know the true strength that lay within him.

* * *

(Please leave a tiny review - I feed on them like a vampire at the blood bank )


	11. Alice's Story Part 1

_Alice's Story_

Alice adored fashion. From Armani suits worn by Richard Gere in American Gigolo, to Zandra Rhodes, the fuchsia-haired darling of Britain, she loved it all. She remembered clearly what it was like when she first awoke as a vampire. It wasn't the sparkling rainbow of colours spinning and twirling from everything or the ability to hear the husky breathing of the lovers entwined in each other's embrace half a mile away which had so amazed her. No, it was the wealth of fabrics filling her new world which captured her heart. She delighted in the texture and scent of every piece of material she encountered; the cool delicate smell of pure unbleached cotton, the rich honeyed tones of plush velvet, the strong masculine scent of heavy denim, Alice drank them all in.

She knew her family was very indulgent of her whims and did not complain too often when they arrived home to find an entire new wardrobe in their closets. Edward had once flown into a savage temper when he discovered she had removed the grubby white t-shirt he had carefully hung at the back of his closet under a protective cover. When he snarlingly informed her that it was the shirt signed by Janis Joplin after her final concert on August 12th 1970, she flew off to retrieve it from the pile destined for Good Will. After that she was a little more restrained in her attempts to re-clothe the family and always made sure old clothes were kept in the house for at least a week to prevent a repeat of the Edward incident.

As well as keeping abreast of the latest developments in such places as Paris, Milan and London, Alice liked to dabble with her own creations. Jasper was often the victim... I mean model, for these occasions though he always insisted the catwalk be in their bedroom and the audience total be zero.

Alice knew that her creations would never become world famous, not without incurring the wrath of the Volturi at any rate, but when Mr Davis handed her the wanted ad she felt a thrill of excitement ripple through her. Here was a legitimate chance to let her creative juices flow at last!

She flung open the door of _Kenton's Fashions_ and announced her arrival.

The name _Kenton's Fashions_ was kind of an oxymoron, like 'tiny planet or 'enthusiastic corpse', for the clothes contained therein were anything but fashionable. Mrs Kenton was a sour-faced shrew of a woman who believed that beauty was the work of the Devil and should be discouraged at all costs. Some might say that these beliefs were nothing more than bitterness stemming from the night when Johnny (captain of the football team) Carpaggio who was supposed to be taking her to prom, failed to show up and was later discovered to have taken Sally (melonboobs) Milburn instead. But no one would ever voice these opinions to her face. She had run the only ladies' clothing store in town for the past twenty years and so it befell to her to produce a suitable gown for the young woman chosen to head the parade at the town pageant each year.

This year it was the turn of eighteen year old Clara Watson. Clara was a pleasant girl who lived on a small farm just outside of town. She lived there with her father, John, and six brothers and sisters. Clara was the eldest of the seven children and since their mother had passed two years ago she had taken on the role of caring for the little ones. Everyday before school she would rise at 5am to prepare breakfast and to make sure they all had clean clothes to wear. As soon as she came home in the afternoon she began the chores of cleaning the house, washing and ironing clothes, preparing the evening meal and assisting with some of the farm animals. She always found time to help the others with their homework and would tuck them into bed with a loving kiss before falling asleep exhausted herself.

Her father worried about her tremendously and constantly told her she shouldn't take on so much, that it wasn't right for a girl her age. Clara would just smile and reassure him that she was fine, really, and she would get bored if she didn't keep herself occupied. John was no fool though, and as the months went by he noticed his once bonny daughter no longer took pride in herself. Her hands were roughened by the constant water from doing the dishes and cleaning. Her hair was always tied back in a plain ponytail and never adorned with clips or fancy decorations like other girls. Her clothes, although neat and tidy, were just worn for practicality and never for fun. He wished there was something he could do, but being a man he had no idea where to start. Every night when he returned late from another gruelling day in the fields, he prayed that God would send his Clara a little brightness to lighten her hard life.

Mrs Kenton scrutinised Alice as she stood in the middle of the dark, dusty shop.

"Can you sew?" she asked.

"Oh yes," replied Alice enthusiastically. "And I can knit, weave, crochet, embroider…"

"Don't be impertinent girl!" snapped Mrs Kenton. "You will answer my questions and nothing more, is that clear?"

Alice beamed and nodded. She could hardly contain herself. She had a proper, grown-up, adult job and it involved fashion! Mrs Kenton could have locked her in a cupboard with a needle and thread and told her to mend the cobwebs and she would still have been in seventh heaven.

Mrs Kenton was rather put out by Alice's exuberance. Well she would soon crush the silly child's enthusiasm. If there was one thing she couldn't abide it was cheerfulness. She led Alice into a tiny backroom which contained a long work table with a sewing machine and several shelves lined with bolts of materials and sewing threads.

"I have designed a dress for the girl leading the parade this year," she said. "All you need to do is to sew the dress and then have the girl in for a fitting. On the day of the parade it will be your responsibility to see that the dress is cleaned and pressed and then you will take it to the Town Hall and help her get ready. Is that understood?"

Alice nodded again.

"Nodding is what those silly dogs in the back of car windows do!" she snapped. "Use your tongue!"

Alice was sorely tempted to stick it out at the hideous woman but instead she gave a quick curtsey and said, "Yes, Mrs Kenton."

The pattern for the dress and a rough mock up using plain cotton material was laid out on the table and Mrs Kenton left Alice to study it while she went to fetch the material for the real thing. Alice stared at the creation in dismay. It was the ugliest thing she had ever laid eyes on. _Ever! _The dress was a shapeless calf-length monstrosity which hung in a straight line from shoulder to hem. The neckline was a simple curve and underneath there was to be a long-sleeved blouse with a high frilly collar which would button up to the chin. It was something that even the Amish would consider severe. Alice pursed her lips thoughtfully and began to make plans.


	12. Alice's Story Part 2

_Thank you for all the lovely reviews, it's really very rewarding when you know someone is enjoying your story. For those who asked - yes, Mrs Kenton is the wife of Mr Kenton from the church Edward plays at. I can't imagine a couple more suited to each other! KittandChips - I'm pleased you like the short Carlisle section at the end of each person's story. I imagined the Cullen children themselves wouldn't have thought they were doing anything particularly special and probably wouldn't have volunteered the information at home, whereas this way he gets to see things from the human point of view. And yes, poor Edward - I wanted to draw a parallel with his opinions on damnation in Twilight. Ah well, at least by the end of Breaking Dawn he's gained a little self-acceptance :)_

* * *

Clara arrived three days later for her first fitting. Mrs Kenton supervised from the corner as Alice pinned the dress at the shoulders and let out the seam at the back a little. She measured Clara's arms and turned up the cuffs of the blouse a touch so they finished at the wrists. The dress was to be made from a dark blue woollen cloth and the blouse from plain white cotton. Clara shifted a little as Alice pinned here and tucked there. She fervently wished she hadn't been selected for the pageant; it was such a waste of time when she could be home getting so much done. When the fitting was through, Mrs Kenton nodded in approval. Alice was doing as she was told and things were going according to plan. Perhaps she had initially misjudged the girl, she thought, and decided to leave Alice to finish the outfit by herself so that she could concentrate more on the dress she herself intended to wear.

The day of the pageant arrived and Clara dutifully turned up at the Town Hall at 10am sharp, as requested by Alice. She quite liked the little topaz eyed girl and found it rather refreshing to talk to someone of her own age for a change. Alice had bombarded her with questions about the farm and her siblings and in turn had made Clara laugh with stories of some of the foolishness her brothers got up to. She thought the Cullens sounded quite a jolly family and wished her own home would echo with laughter more often. She hadn't told anyone she was leading the pageant today and really just wanted to get the whole thing over and done with so she could get back to normality.

Alice took her into the little office which had been assigned as a dressing room. The dress and blouse were hanging on a rail under a black plastic protective cover. As Alice unzipped it, Clara gasped in amazement. Delicately Alice removed the cover to reveal her creation in all its glory. It was a stunning floor length silk dress in a rich satisfying forest green which perfectly complimented Clara's glossy auburn hair. The dress had a tight fitting bodice embroidered with tiny black roses and flared out into a full organza skirt which flowed gracefully to the floor. Alice also had a pair of perfectly matching silk shoes for her to wear. In silence Clara stepped into the dress and Alice fastened the pretty ribbon ties. She seated Clara at the table and went to work with the curling tongs until Clara's hair cascaded in perfect ringlets down to her shoulders. No words were needed as Alice stood Clara in front of the mirror - the pure delight on Clara's face said it all. She was _beautiful_!

"Oh, Alice!" she whispered, as her vision blurred.

"Don't you dare cry," scolded Alice. "You'll make your nose all red!"

Clara giggled and dabbed her eyes.

"When I was little I used to play dress-up with my mom's clothes," she said. "She would fasten pretty ribbons in my hair and tell me my prince was waiting to take me to the ball."

Alice hugged her.

"Any prince would be lucky to have you," she said. "And although I doubt there are princes in Machias I'm pretty sure some of the boys are going to be blown away when they see you!"

Clara blushed and hoped that perhaps one of those boys would be Josh. He'd been so nice to her when her mom died and he had such an adorable smile when he peeked at her through his long dark lashes.

Alice completed the outfit with one more item. Carefully she fastened the antique gold locket around Clara's neck.

"Oh Alice it's gorgeous," she sighed. "But I can't possibly wear such a valuable thing. What if I lose it?"

"It's yours," shrugged Alice nonchalantly. "It's just an old thing that was lying around at home."

Clara hugged her again before Alice led her down to the carriage in which she would lead the parade.

The band struck up and the townsfolk watched eagerly as the parade approached. There were gasps of amazement and whispers of '_Is that really John Watson's little Clara?_' as the parade wound through the streets. Mrs Kenton seethed with rage as she realised Alice had outwitted her, but there was nothing she could do.

John, who had received a mysterious anonymous note telling him to come see the parade this year, felt his heart pound and his eyes filled with tears of joy as he saw his beloved Clara looking so jubilant in her carriage, waving to the crowds. This was the Clara he had missed – young and vibrant, full of happiness and hope. He sent up a prayer of thanks to God for hearing him and for bringing his daughter back to life.

* * *

Carlisle, who knew all about the hardships the Watson family faced, sighed with deep contentment, as he watched from the hospital window, that for at least one afternoon their troubles could be forgotten. Alice may not have human memories but she definitely had human qualities – kindness, compassion, love, tenderness. He hoped that she realised that it was who she was now that really mattered, and not who she might once have been.

* * *

(Please leave a little review to keep me going. Thank you.)


	13. Patch's Story Part 1

_Thanks again for the kind comments. I'm glad you're enjoying it Justme, how much detail to go into is something I need to work on as I know that my favourite stories by other people have way longer chapters than mine! Hopefully I will get better at stories as time goes by. How did Alice manage the dress? Well as soon as she'd had Clara in to the shop for her first fitting she memorised all of her measurements. It was then easy for her to make a perfectly fitting dress at the Cullen house without needing Clara to try it on before the big day. So as far as Mrs Kenton was concerned, Alice was just making the outfit she designed. Also after the first fitting Mrs Kenton (foolishly) thought Alice was doing as she was told and stopped supervising her so she could work on a dress for hers__elf. I know it's not detailed but that's how Alice got around it anyway lol! Okay, on with the show..._

* * *

_Patch's Story_

Patch yawned and began the arduous process of getting to his feet to begin a new day. His joints and muscles always ached first thing in the morning and it took a great deal of stretching and sitting down again before he was ready to make it into the yard. It was early dawn and the rising sun cast a warm pink glow into the kitchen where he slept. He paused to investigate a rather tempting splash of gravy on the floor and then pushed his tired old body through the dog-flap to greet the day.

Patch was a thirteen year old golden retriever. His once lustrous golden coat was now dull and the soft feathering around his legs was rather matted in places. His new owner did her best to groom him but she had to be careful to avoid the painful bumps he had developed on various parts of his body. Patch didn't know what they were although he'd heard the vet refer to them as tumours. All Patch knew was that they were very sensitive to touch and he would sometimes spend hours tenderly licking them, wishing they would just wash away.

He'd been at this place for eight months now, ever since… Well, Patch still didn't like to think about the before time. He was here now and at least he had a warm bed to sleep in and two solid meals a day to look forward to. He wasn't the only dog here of course, there were lots of others. Some lived in the pens out in the yard but they didn't tend to stay there for long. People would come along and peer excitedly into the wire cages and point and pat their knees calling _here boy _or_ good girl _and then one of the dogs would leave with them. No one came to peer at Patch though. He didn't mind; he was too old to learn to love another again.

One of the labradors gave a mumbled woof of greeting as Patch ambled by before turning round several times and resuming his sleep. Patch made his way across the cool dew-covered grass to his favourite shady spot beneath an apple tree. A curious blue jay watched from the branches as Patch carefully trampled the grass and curled up, resting his tired head on his paws. His eyes felt heavy and he sighed softly before sinking into a comfortable sleep.

A sudden strange scent awoke him and he raised his head cautiously and sniffed the air. It was much later in the morning and the sun had disappeared behind a thick covering of cloud. The new scent was coming from over by the house. Overcome with curiosity, Patch walked slowly over to investigate. Suddenly the most enormous man Patch had ever seen stepped into the yard. Patch backed up and took a good look at him. He was very tall and muscular, with broad solid shoulders and big strong hands. Patch sniffed again warily. Something about the man smelt very much like top of the food chain predator, but when Patch looked up at his face all he could see was kindness. The man crouched down and extended his hand towards Patch and with an enormous dimpled grin on his face said, "Hello boy!"

Before he knew it, Patch found himself plodding over to the newcomer to sniff at his outstretched hand.

"This is Patch," said Jenny, the girl who owned the rescue centre. "He's been with us a few months now, ever since his owner died. Apparently she'd been dead three days before anyone knew and they found Patch curled up next to her bed, totally dehydrated but refusing to …"

Patch tuned out from what she was saying. It was too painful remembering those dreadful days when he had lain faithfully by his mistress' side, knowing that something was terribly wrong but being powerless to do anything. He'd become quite frantic when the ambulance men had taken her away and wanted to stay with her to protect her, just as he had all his life, but they wouldn't let him. A man had come and gently put him in the back of a van and brought him here to Jenny. For the first month he had sat on the porch every day from dawn till dusk, watching every vehicle that drove up to see if his mistress had returned for him. But she never did. Sometimes Patch wondered if he'd done something wrong to make her not want him any more. Now it was just easier to try and not think about those times at all.

Patch realised that Jenny had gone back inside and that the man was now over by the runs. Clearly some of the other dogs recognised his strange predatory scent too for they whined fearfully and cringed submissively when he first approached but his calm voice and kind face soon lulled them. He was now setting about the task of cleaning out the pens.

An hour or so later, Jenny came out with a tall glass of lemonade for the man who smiled and took a few mouthfuls. Jenny told him he could have an hour or so to himself as it was now opening time and suggested he take a walk round the land to get a feel for the place. Patch decided to act as guide.

He accompanied the man over to the orchard first where the man quickly regurgitated the mouthfuls of lemonade he'd previously swallowed. Patch hoped he wasn't ill and decided to keep a watchful eye on him. The man spoke kindly to him all the while and when they reached the stream which bordered the property, he lay down and dabbled his hands in the water.

"I bet I had dogs before," he murmured to Patch. "I think I remember being on a farm and farms always have dogs, don't they?"

Patch listened patiently and wondered why the man couldn't remember whether he'd had a dog before or not.

The man reached out and gently tickled under Patch's chin. The coolness of his fingers felt very soothing and Patch closed his eyes and stretched his head forward so he could be scratched harder. The man chuckled.

"You like that, huh boy?" he said.

Patch gave the man a tiny lick on the back of his hand as an affirmative.

Everyday the man would arrive in the morning to do various chores for Jenny. Mostly he cleaned out pens or fixed broken fencing, but sometimes Jenny would let him put a couple of the dogs on leads and take them for exercise out in the fields. Patch yearned to be able to run alongside them. He remembered when he was younger and would fly through the long grass, his long silky fur streaming out behind him as his paws gripped the soft damp earth, propelling him faster and faster. His mistress had a rubber ball in a sort of sling which she would launch as far as she could. Patch would bound eagerly to where the ball was flung, often leaping high into the air to catch it before it landed, and would sprint back to his mistress and growl teasingly as she tried to pull it from his mouth. Patch's mouth opened in a wide doggy grin as he watched the youngsters frolicking in the field and remembered the good times.


	14. Patch's Story Part 2

One day, Patch overheard the man ask Jenny if he could take Patch out for a walk. Patch tiptoed up to the door and listened hopefully.

"I don't know, Emmett, he's really old and the vet says he's probably only got a few months left in him. I wouldn't want to put a strain on him," she said.

"But I'd go real slow with him," pleaded the man. "And look at me! I can easily carry him back if he gets too tired to walk."

Jenny could find no fault with his argument.

"Alright she," she said finally. "But _please_ go slow with him. He's riddled with arthritis and finds it quite difficult to move."

Patch swiftly lay down and pretended to be asleep so they wouldn't know he'd been listening. He felt the man run a cool hand across his back and opened his eyes sleepily, yawning for effect.

"Wanna go walkies?" asked the man, enthusiastically. "C'mon, let's go hunt some rabbits!"

Patch got to his feet and ambled along as the man headed off towards the footpath which led to the forest. Catch rabbits indeed! Patch couldn't even snap at the flies which hung around his sore bumps these days!

As soon as they were out of sight of the house the man stopped and bent down. Gently he fondled Patch's ears.

"Don't worry, boy," he said. "I'm not gonna make you walk miles. I'm gonna carry you!"

And with that he carefully lifted Patch up into his arms and held him securely to his solid chest. Patch wondered why the man wanted to carry him already. They'd only been walking five minutes and Patch was a little offended if the man thought that was all he could manage. The next second the man took off into the trees and Patch knew _exactly_ why he was being carried.

The sensation was exhilarating. The wind whipped by as the man snaked in and out of the trees, leaping over streams in one bound and springing up steep rocky slopes. Patch felt like a puppy again. The strong scents of green and brown assaulted his nostrils and he hungrily drank in the story they told. He sensed the herd of deer which had passed by several hours ago; he smelt the strong scent of a wildcat that had marked his territory on a nearby tree; he caught the acrid whiff of scorched wood from a tree which had been struck by lightning during last night's storms. Patch could read it all. He closed his eyes and allowed the myriad scents to fill him entirely.

Eventually the man slowed his pace and came to rest on the edge of a glade. He gently laid Patch down and crouched beside him looking at him carefully.

"You okay boy?" he asked cautiously, and tentatively reached out to fondle Patch's ears. Patch never thought he would adore anyone as much as his beloved mistress again but this man had just given him the most thrilling experience he'd had in years. Summoning all his strength he put his paws up on the man's shoulders and gave him a succession of big slobbery licks all over his face.

The man's laughter boomed out frightening several flocks of birds, as he rolled onto the grass with Patch still madly licking him.

"What say we go find those rabbits now!" he announced.

In the middle of the glade were several rabbit holes and the fresh droppings scattered around the entrances told Patch that they were inhabited. He and the man settled down some way from the warren and both froze like statues. The only movement was the minute quivering of Patch's nostrils as he waited for the first scent of prey.

Patch and Emmett caught the sweet smell of the approaching rabbit at the same time. It was a youngster who had gotten over-confident because he hardly ever encountered a predator. He sat in the middle of the glade gently licking his paw before running it repeatedly over his long floppy ears. Suddenly a twig snapped and as he looked round he was terrified to see an enormous man thundering straight for him at a phenomenal rate. The rabbit froze for a second and then turned to flee, straight into the waiting jaws of a grinning dog. Patch snapped once and the rabbit's neck was instantly broken leaving the creature hanging limply in his mouth.

"Good boy!" praised the man, as he helped Patch to rip open the skin and enjoy the best meal he had eaten in a long time. Tinned dog food was okay but it was nothing compared to the deliciousness of tearing into the smooth blood-covered muscles of a warm kill. The man dipped his finger into the steaming carcus and licked it before wrinkling his nose.

"Give me grizzly every time," he said, leaving Patch to finish his meal.

Weeks went by and Patch enjoyed his regular forays with the man. They would always walk slowly out of sight of the house before the man would lift him into his arms and take him on another thrilling hunt into the wilderness. Patch felt like a new dog.

Then one day something felt different. He didn't want to get out of his warm basket in the kitchen and just lay there sleepily as Jenny fussed around. The vet came for a couple of visits and Patch heard him say, "Just keep him warm, it won't be much longer now," and wondered what it meant. The man still came every day but instead of taking him hunting would just sit with Patch and gently run his soothing cold hands across his fur.

It was late on Thursday afternoon when Patch passed away. Emmett sat by his basket and gently soothed him as he listened to the heartbeat falter.

"Sleep tight old man," he whispered, and softly bent down to kiss Patch's head. The weary heart fluttered once more and then was silent.

Emmett asked Jenny for permission to bury the old dog out where he'd enjoyed taking him for walks. Jenny knew the young man had become very attached to Patch and granted his request.

* * *

Carlisle passed the piece of polished wood over and stood back to watch as Emmett firmed down the soil on top of the small mound at the edge of the glade before firmly pressed the small oak marker into place. For all his towering size and strength, right now Emmett looked like a small, forlorn child very much in need of a hug from his father as he dealt with his loss.

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_Put those hankies away people and review! _


	15. Full Circle

The summer was almost over and a cooling of the weather heralded the arrival of September. The five Cullen children had diligently stuck at their jobs and now, as Carlisle had promised, it was time to review the situation. He called a family meeting and they all gathered at the now fully restored dining table. He looked around at the faces of his children.

"I just want you all to know how incredibly proud Esme and I are of you all," he began. He looked at Rosalie.

"Rosalie, you have unstintingly taken care of our home this summer. You have humbly put your own wants and needs on hold and have thought about everyone else first. It has been my pleasure to see you blossom into the kind of woman we are all delighted to call wife, sister, daughter. I am so very proud of you."

Rosalie looked shy and proud all at the same time as Emmett gave her a great big hug and kiss.

Carlisle turned his attention to Edward.

"Son, you gave a woman hope where she only felt despair," he began. Edward looked at him in astonishment. How did Carlisle know about Emily?

"You gave her the strength and peace of mind to move on from the tragedy in her life and allowed her to once more feel secure in God's presence. Only someone with a pure soul could utter words of spiritual truth as you did, Edward. Remember that."

Edward studied the swirling patterns of wood grain in the table's polished surface and felt a strange prickling sensation in his eyes. _Remember that._

Carlisle looked at Jasper and smiled.

"Well, Major Whitlock, what's the outcome of the war after all these battles?" he asked mischievously.

Jasper ducked his head, knowing full well what Carlisle was referring to.

"We decided to make it a draw, sir," he said shyly.

"Very diplomatic," said Carlisle approvingly. "Jasper…" He waited until his son was looking at him before continuing. "Don't ever consider yourself weak. You persuaded over sixty men to follow you unquestioningly and in doing so gave them back their self respect and dignity. That is not the action of a weak man but of a hero. You are truly a man of honour and I am very proud of you."

Jasper beamed and everyone immediately felt uplifted by the strong sense of worth he was projecting.

Alice knew she was next and her eyes sparkled as Carlisle turned his attention to her.

"Ah Alice," he said. "Your ability to love never ceases to amaze me. You're like an endless stream of giving and that is no mean feat for someone who began with nothing at all. What you did for Clara was nothing short of a miracle in that family's eyes and you have enabled them to move forward with renewed energy and eagerness for the future. I thank God every day for your visions, for it was they that brought you to us and enabled us to be blessed by your presence."

Alice's eyes filled with happy tears which Jasper gently brushed away with his thumb before giving his wife a loving squeeze.

"And you Emmett," said Carlisle fondly. "Physically the strongest among us and yet it is not your great size or strength which makes you so powerful."

Emmett looked puzzled as Carlisle continued.

"No, it is your compassion and ability to feel for others which is your greatest gift," he said. "To understand the simple needs of another of God's creatures and to allow yourself to mourn a loss, these are the characteristics of a true giant among men."

Emmett ducked his head shyly. "Thanks, Dad," he whispered.

Carlisle sat back in his chair and stretched out his legs. "So, the summer has passed and I can say that all of you have risen to the challenge of work with outstanding success. You have proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are more than capable of maintaining a human front outside of school so am I to assume you are all continuing with your jobs?"

His mouth fell open in surprise as all five of them declared a resounding _NO!_

"But…but I don't understand…" he stuttered.

Edward explained. "Work has been interesting," he said, "But frankly it's really _hard_! Kids at school have problems which occasionally impact on us, but they are _nothing_ compared to what adults have to contend with. We never thought we'd say this but… please can we go back to school?"

Five pairs of eyes gazed at Carlisle pleadingly. He grinned. "I must confess I'm rather glad you've said that. I meant what I said about how proud I am of you all but…well, I suppose no parent likes to admit his children are growing up!"

Esme nodded in agreement. "Why don't you all take some time to go on an extensive hunt together and then we can dig out those college prospectuses when you get back?" she suggested.

Barely had she finished speaking when the five younger members hurtled nimbly out the door and were away to the mountains in a blur. She and Carlisle stood on the porch listening to the laughter as it faded into the distance. Carlisle turned to his wife.

"I thought vampires were frozen in time for all eternity," he said, softly kissing the top of her head. "But I swear that all of a sudden those five seem very grown up indeed."

Esme smiled up at her beloved mate.

"Yes," she agreed. "I think the past few weeks has taught them some valuable lessons. However" - she paused - "to me they will always be like little children!"

Carlisle laughed and hand in hand they ran to join the rest of their family.

* * *

That's all folks - time for the Cullens to return to their usual pattern of life, well for now anyway! I always thought that endless High School would get rather tedious for such sepremely intelligent beings and wondered why they couldn't try jobs now and then. Thank you for reading and a special thanks to those of you who reviewed. Out of curiosity - did anyone make the connection with the things Rosalie did for her siblings at the end of her section? As temporary home maker I wanted Rosalie to be a source of support for them all in their jobs but I guess unless you read the whole thing through in one go her little acts would be lost. Have a peak back at chapter 6 and you'll see what I'm referring to.

And to KittandChips - your career guesses were surprisingly accurate! Clearly your mind-reading skills are much more powerful that Edward's, extending all the way across the internet! Be careful - I fear Aro may be rather interested in you. LOL

I already have a couple of short one shot stories finished so I'll post them up soon. Hope you enjoy! x


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